


molasess-coated nostalgia

by xinyang



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Betrayal, Character Death, Crests (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Depression, F/F, F/M, Healing, M/M, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28472847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xinyang/pseuds/xinyang
Summary: a collection of stories i create to develop my writing. most are about nostalgia, happy or sad. comments are appreciated! fire emblem: three houses
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Linhardt von Hevring/My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth/Seteth, Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Kudos: 11





	1. kamikaze

**Author's Note:**

> in which a professor and her red-headed student bear the weight of each other's sins.

A gifted strategist and an even more talented swordsmaster, she played both roles- general and soldier. 

So how was it that she, a mere mercenary, survived? While multitudes withered in battle? 

It certainly wasn’t the will of the Goddess. The impulse of a dead deity meant next to nothing. 

Excruciating wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the feeling of killing a friend. She’d watch from afar as her former students crumpled at the body of a classmate or loved one.

She was the instigator. She was the one who commanded them to an unsightly ending. She was the one responsible for such gruesome deaths. 

In turn, it was her responsibility to bear the weight of these slaughters.

-

He’d notice. Even if he painted the picture of a serial-dater, he wasn’t blind. He’d notice; every time someone familiar was on the opposing force, he was placed at the back. Despite the military excuses, she was wearing thin. The veneers were slipping from her grasp.

Even Ingrid had noticed it. 

“Why is the Professor placing us at the back? I understand she wants to make the battle as efficient as possible, but-” 

He had cut her off with a wink and feigned shock, suddenly remembering that the cafeteria was running out of rations. Ingrid had run off on her own, waving to him before she fled. 

The grin fell as he stared at the floor. How long was she going to keep this up? How long until she realized that she couldn’t keep killing her former students? How long until she shattered under the weight of the lives she bore? 

\- 

The war had yet to cease. More and more familiar faces had shown up in the masses of enemies. Battle was even wearier than before. Curses fell from her enemies’ lips, many being those of her pupils. It was as though they were haunting her. 

With a final slash, Felix fell at her feet. He was the last to go, skilled as ever. She looked down- an action that proved to be a mistake. She had created a horrifying moment of eye contact. 

“You’ve got-” He hacked a few coughs before continuing. “You’ve got the same look in your eyes as the boar.” 

Oh, how she laid in bed that night! 

-

Something was not right. Something was definitely not right. The air around the Professor had changed. It had changed long ago, but he was blind to anything concerning the non-existent woe in his teacher. 

Now, he feared it was too late. 

She walked with determination. No one had said anything; he asked around. Such abrupt determination was ever sighted to emerge from an omen of death. 

It was the professor, he reasoned. She had always been an odd one, so who was to say she couldn’t materialize willpower?

-

A blow from the right had finally struck. She could feel her flesh tearing away, adrenaline preventing her from feeling any pain. 

The Philanderer watched in silent horror as he watched her fall. It was an easy dodge- why didn’t she move?

Finally, finally! The Ashen Demon had fallen! The menace born from the Blade Breaker had succumbed to the blade of justice! 

Relief swept across the battlefield. Dimitri could be heard commanding soldiers to keep up the pressure, now that the main threat had been eliminated. 

Forced to tear his eyes away from the site of her body, the skirt-chaser was overwhelmed. One by one, every ally fell. But the only one he could focus on was the Professor.

He had noticed her toiling. He could have prevented this crushing defeat. His vision faded slowly, blots of darkness tainting his vision. 

Through the selfishness of a soldier with nothing to lose, the army toppled. 

The sick game of chess had finally come to an end.

Yet, there was no salvation for the Ashen Demon and her loyal followers.


	2. coronation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this at day- i regret it. not sure if i like this one  
> ooc linhardt?????? oopsie poopsie  
> how the fuck do you italicize on ao3  
> oh nvm i figured it out  
> wtf is "rich text"

_This was ridiculous. Saving a few kids from bandits, then being dragged to a monastery and hired as a teacher, then a war? Not to mention some mysterious “true identity” that he possessed?_

The crowd waited as the new ruler of the united Fódlan held up his right hand and rested the other on a book. Seteth smiled as he watched the first ruling oath of the new nation.

_Byleth sighed, rubbing his eyes before looking down at paperwork sitting on his desk. Rations were- yet again- wearing thin. At this rate, they wouldn’t be able to feed half the army next month._

Rhea’s eyes beamed with pride when he finished and kneeled, dutifully waiting for the moment the crown rested atop his head.

“ _Professor? Are you busy?” A soft knock came from the door. Byleth turned to see Linhardt standing a few feet away. It was time for a break, it seemed._

_“No. Come in, Linhardt.”_

_“I was interested in your Crest, professor. Hanneman and I discovered that- putting it simply- your Crest, the Crest of Flames, has the power to enamor those around you. It wasn’t even hinted at in Nemesis, but I suspect that’s because the brute wasn’t very charming, now was he?”_

Flayn held the pillow with the headpiece, struggling to contain her happiness. The archbishop took the sword of Seiros, placing it once on both of Byleth’s shoulders as she called upon a memorized scripture.

_Byleth laughed, grinning at the sleepy scholar. It was unusual for Linhardt to make jokes, so when he did, they were cherished. Linhardt, upon witnessing the outburst, smiled genuinely._

_“That doesn’t mean you like me because of my Crest, right?”_

_“Professor! How could you imply something like that?” He looked legitimately offended, so Byleth backtracked._

Taking the crown, Rhea took a deep breath and finally placed it on Byleth’s head.

_“Ah, I’m sorry. I won’t make jokes like that in the future.”_

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers as Byleth stood up, smiling as Fódland’s offical new ruler. He scanned the crowd, looking for his motivation.

_“As long as you understand that you’re precious to me because of yourself. Not your Crest.”_

At last, his eyes landed on a fully-alert man in the crowd. Adoration, pride, and hope glimmered in each other’s eyes as the dawn of a new era made its debut.

_“Of course, Linhardt.”_


	3. hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> major spoilers for seteth and flayn b careful bbs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the most cliche thing i have ever written and i kinda ran out of stamina at the end  
> BUT  
> i plan to write something fluffy so my angst meter will be replenished

Ever the omniscient spectator, Seteth had had no qualms with what the Professor was doing. In fact, she had exceeded whatever expectation he had formed in the months before the war.

At first, he’d questioned how she managed to become the masses’ favorite professor. In just a few months, no less! The students were enamored by this mystery of a person- the stranger who picked up the Sword of the Creator and wielded it like a third arm.

She didn’t know about Crests. She didn’t know about the church. She didn’t even know about Sothis, or how the continent came to be. What was Jeralt thinking, raising her this way? The amount of skepticism in the green-haired supporter could rival that of a rabbit trusting a fox.

Then, Flayn was kidnapped.

Seteth was shattered. Eating, sleeping, and even speaking seemed to be an impossible feat while she was missing. Pleading for help was the most he could do as everyone in the Academy searched for his ‘sister’.

_“I’ll find her. I swear it.”_

_“Please, that is all I can ask of you! She would not run off on her own without telling me!”_

Eventually, the Professor pieced together a broken chain of clues to figure out that Jeritza- the Death Knight- had taken Flayn and another student into an underground lair. He didn’t learn until a month later that the Professor was the one to both fight the hardest and carry Flayn out of there.

He began to understand what was so appealing about this newcomer.

She radiated kindness.

Just as he figured her out, the progenitor Goddess disappeared, along with Rhea. Two- not one, but two- of the most treasured people in his life were gone. Their bodies were never found, so they were alive. In a flash, Fódlan fell to chaos.

It was an entire five years later that the Professor was found. Showed up out of the blue, not unlike her first appearance. Seteth had greeted her harshly, threatening violence as his shout reverberated in the broken cathedral. To his surprise, she looked like she’d come from the past. Sleeping in a pile of rubble for five years, she claimed.

That night, he made a silent vow. Never again would Byleth end up in a situation like that again, nor would Rhea once they found her. From then on, Seteth became the war commander’s right hand. One was rarely sighted without the other.

Moments with her were treasured, even if they were constant. Whether they be late at night in the cardinal’s room plotting strategies, or early morning in the dining hall having a meal together (and everything in between).

Somewhere along the way, he stopped thinking of her as an outsider. Perhaps it was when she saved Flayn. Or did she slowly grow on him? Either way, she had become crucial to his existence. She had become his purpose, other than saving Rhea.

Putting it bluntly, he was infatuated. He, too, had fallen victim to the seemingly invisible charm of a stranger.

In time, he would propose to her. They would have Rhea make it official and Flayn be the flowergirl, or one of the bridesmaids.

So how did this happen? How did this come to be?

How had he made another mistake?

How, exactly, did Byleth end up in his arms as she bled to her death?


	4. promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sylvix angst,  
> angst again,,,,,  
> sorry,,,,,,,,,,,

Why had the Professor sent them out here? He was smart. In fact, he was a prodigy. Nearly the same age as the Monastery students, but taught them as an authority figure. So why? Why did he send the _entire class_ out on a fruitless venture? Why did he send them on a _suicide mission?_

Sylvain realized before he did, calling out across the battlefield. He couldn’t hear over the relentless chaos that was war. Fighting through the thickets of enemies, he eventually ended up at the redhead’s side as they crossed blades with familiar faces.

“We’re gonna die!”

“What? But we’ve been placed at the-”

At the rear. Reinforcements were storming the field from an opening behind, quickly cutting down Mercedes and Annette- the healers of the group. Annette fell with a shriek, whereas Mercedes flopped with what looked to be a prayer on her lips.

“Why would the Professor-”

With a single digit stretched outwards, Felix caught sight of a motive the beloved Professor would’ve dropped everything for;

Byleth was embracing Edelgard.

With welcoming arms, he embraced her.

He had single-handedly killed the entire class- an entire army- for the touch of a porcelain-haired fascist.

_

_He didn’t believe in the Goddess. She was given thanks, prayers, and for what? The labor of the people? No. It was a waste of time._

He’d crawled to the edge of the forest, dragging Sylvain with him.

“Sylvain! Sylvain! Get up, you oaf!” He didn’t respond, eyelids stationary.

He wasn’t dead.

He was just trying to fool him, as he did when they were kids. As he did when they’d play knights and princesses. One day, it ended up him crying before a previously-dead Sylvain jumped up, apologizing and trying to soothe the wails.

He never played dead for that long again.

_To be praying to an imaginary numen was an embarrassment, which was why he’d never do it._

“This is a terrible time for a prank, Sylvain!”

Just because it hadn’t happened again didn’t mean it couldn’t happen again.

Just because his body was cold didn’t mean he was dead. It was always cold in Faergus.

“Sylvain, wake up! We’ve got a war to live through!”

“Sylvain, please! Y-you haven’t broken the promise yet, right?!”

“Sylvain, you promised me that we’d die together…!”

_So how did he end up praying his lover was alive?_


	5. story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> byleth tells claude a story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back, bitches! this time w healing and no knowledge of how this site's formatting works  
> anyways  
> claudleth wlm

“Back again, Professor? Funny how we always end up meeting obscenely early.”

“Indeed. I’d expect one of us to break the chain.”

The air was thick with nostalgia, discernable only to the Golden Deer leader and his instructor.

“…Have I ever told you about my mercenary days?”

They’d met here before. Dozens of times before, actually. It seemed that they couldn’t outrun one another in the early hours of the morning.

“No.” She never mentioned them before, and he wasn’t going to feign deafness when she did.

“There was one instance, when I was growing up, where we had a jokester in our midst.”

Meeting here every month on the same night. To an outsider, it may seem that they were lovers, or one was stalking the other. The outsider would come to be partially right, eventually.

“At this time, I still didn’t know what emotions were. I didn’t feel, nor did I understand the reactions of others. ”

But as of now? It was purely coincidental.

“This man told me, one day, to act like I didn’t know my father when we welcomed a new member.”

Claude listened intently, staring at Byleth’s face as she gazed into the impossible heights of the stars.

“I did that. Needless to say, the newcomer and Jeralt were surprised. The newcomer upon seeing a child, and my father upon my words. The rest of the group laughed and the jokester made himself known as the conductor of that prank.”

“That night, he didn’t drink as much. He wasn’t as rowdy, and he wasn’t as kind to the jokester. The next morning, the jokester was gone. Jeralt said he left in the night because his family was facing some financial trouble, but I didn’t learn the truth until years later.”

“He’d been expelled.”

Silence, as Claude waited for her to continue. A humorless chuckle broke the stillness. Byleth had her head hung down, staring at the ledge of the balcony they were leaning on.

“It wasn’t until after Jeralt died that I understood why he expelled that man. My father, the man I followed around my entire life, the only person who knew me beyond the ‘Ashen Demon’, wasn’t sure if I loved him or not.”

Tears hit the stone, but the Alliance leader made no motion to comfort his company. This story wasn’t over, he could tell.

Speech resumed once the sniffles and tears stopped.

“…I don’t know what comes after death. I don’t fear, embrace, nor lament for it. Reincarnation, heaven, hell. Reincarnation, heaven, hell. What do they mean to the living person?”

“To get their goals out of the way. To have their ideals, motives, and drive fulfilled.”

“I’m not sure what my drive was. To survive, perhaps. To live a mobile life with my only family?”

“I don’t know what my drive was, but I do know I failed a crucial part.”

Coincidence. Was it a coincidence that they kept meeting like this? Or was it fate?

“I failed. I didn’t let him know I cared for him. I didn’t let him know I _loved_ him.”

Whichever it was, it was a catalyst.

“I-I can only hope that, from where ever he is, he’ll know.”

“He will.”

A step for a new dawn, as Claude finally took the Ashen Demon in his arms, listening to her wails echo into the great unknown.

Listening to her heal, from inside out.


End file.
